Dani’s Blog

A year ago today, I was making my way from Buenos Aires to Misiones in Argentina. It was the beginning of three weeks on the road. Yesterday I mentioned this to the friend I road-tripped with, and he said,
I can’t believe you KNOW that.

Yeah. Well.
I often think about what I was doing exactly one year ago. Especially if it was the start of something big, or a transition.

I relish thinking, wow, one year ago I was doing this or that, I was here or there! The list of all that has happened in the last 365 days then flashes through my mind and I’m always in awe at how much can happen in a year.
And the changes.

Then I think, I wonder where I’ll be next year at this time…
the possibilities are HUGE.

I love this feeling.

That is why I look back – it helps me face forward with an eager optimism.

Night, from Cochabamba 411. San Telmo.

I left Buenos Aires on a late-night bus and arrived in San Ignacio early the next day.

My instructions to the hospedaje were:
3 blocks on main road
left on dirt road
small red sign on pine tree: Pisa Alquiler, 50 m
5 blocks til paved road
you’ll see it

Night is quiet and dark in San Ignacio.

Mariana and Fabian getting ready to mount Yuyo's canvas in his studio in Central Park, Barracas, Buenos Aires.

I’m feeling nostalgic tonight.
It’s almost midnight in Buenos Aires.
I’m in Paris.

My cheeks are still chilled from the walk home along the frigid Canal St Martin.

It’s hot and muggy down in BA and there will probably soon be a downpour.

One year ago today I watched a huge canvas being put onto an 11-by-3 meter frame in a studio in my neighborhood in Barracas, BA. Yuyo (Luis Felipe Noe) would soon start assembling his work for the Venice Biennale, a process I would continue photographing for three months in Argentina, plus another two weeks in Venice.

Today was day one.

Monday night I was invited to show some of my photos, in the form of a projection, at UNESCO in Paris. My friend, painter Paola Noe, is having an exhibition of her paintings there, and because her father Luis Felipe Noé (the subject of my photos) would be in town, fresh from the Venice Bienale, she invited me to participate.

I’ve made a few slideshows using iMovie, they were quite short and simple. This time I had hundreds of photos taken over three months to select from and there was a story to tell, not just some pretty pictures. It was a fun challenge, and editing images and sound together like a puzzle can get addicting.  The response Monday night was really positive.  After many many trials at ways to compress it for web, here it is, and more importantly, here is Yuyo Noé.

Just back in Paris from the Venice Bienale.

A photo from this project documenting Yuyo Noé’s creative process was published in La Nacion in Buenos Aires on Sunday.

Noe working at Central Park, in Barracas, Buenos Aires. March 2009.

1 de Mayo is being honored a day early in Buenos Aires, today, the 30th of April. There has been virtually non-stop drumming on and near Avenida 9 de Julio since 11 this morning. It’s 7pm now. I went out to look around, through crowds composed of about 93% men. When finding my way through dense herds of them, I feel like some kind of passively hunted animal they often prefer to call bébé. Anyway. I love percussion and a good manifestation, and the day was perfect for it.

These are my last few days in Buenos Aires before I head north on a big bus. Jungle…to desert…to salt flats…and, perhaps…to Chile.

4pm light at Central Park, Barracas, Buenos Aires.

I am spending part of every day at Central Park, the studio and office complex in Barracas, photographing the painter Luis Felipe Noé (known as Yuyo, and sometimes Master) and his dedicated assistants as they work intensely on his works of art for the Venice Biennale. Time is running short. It all gets packed up in about a week and will be re-constructed on the other side of the ocean, where I will see it again at the end of May.

Tools

For two months I’ve watched him create; using brush, pen, finger, pencil, mop, ink, glue, paper, canvas and paint. He is Master to many and I’ve relished watching him work. He and everyone around him have been so warm, welcoming and helpful; the heart of my first experience of Buenos Aires.

Spending time with him and the artists who assist him has expanded my field of vision. My dreams are saturated with color and my reality is full of new ideas.

On Friday I climbed a water tower on the 25th floor and stood in the wind, shaking just a little, looking down at Buenos Aires.  A 360-degree view and nothing to hold onto.  It felt like surfing the world.  I crawled to the edge and laid down on my stomach to take some photos.

Perched above BsAs

The water tower is on top of my friends‘ flat in Congreso, where I was invited to dinner, which led to my first all-night poker game.  I was SO close to winning, and then . . . didn’t. Anyway. They claim to have the best view in Buenos Aires, they may be right.

Here is Congresso from their flat and mine.

Congreso, near and far

I moved this week. I wanted to see the city from a little higher up.

Sitting up in my bed on the 14th floor, I can look out on the autopista 25 de mayo and it feels like the building is in its path. Lying down I see the sky and think of Georgia O’Keefe being drawn to New Mexico.

Looking out on autopista 25 de mayo

But on the ground…
on the ground in Buenos Aires is another experience.

You navigate the potholes and loose sidewalk tiles concealing muddy pools of water that splash your feet.

You hold your breath crossing the street in the billowing black cloud left behind by the bus.

You keep your bag close and look over your shoulder.

You don’t hear your cell phone ringing above all the noise.

You duck into a kiosco searching for something that costs one peso so you can get enough change in this short-of-change city to get on the bus.

You keep walking because at the kiosco “no hay moneda.”

You smile naively at the bank and get 10 pesos worth of coins instead of the allotted 5.

You hear a honk or a “tsst tsst,” grit your teeth and get used to it.

You step into the middle of the street to get the bus driver to stop, then jump off at your destination as he slows down just enough.

Then aaaahh, you hear the ubiquitous bandoneon coming from the music store door,

While the regulars on the corner work on going through today’s garbage.

You stop at your favorite café with its black-and-white tiled floor to get a café con leche and buttery medialunas.

You say Hola to all of your neighbors, who recognize you on the second meeting.

You get lifted up to piso 14 and lie down and look at the sky.

Setting west over the autopista

For the last few weeks I’ve been photographing the creation of a piece of artwork for the Venice Biennale, which I will follow over to Italy at the end of May. The work is being created in a studio in Central Park, a huge puzzle of studios in Barracas, Buenos Aires.

The building takes up one whole block, between Avenidas, California, Iriarte, Vieytes and Herrera. Built in 1889, it was originally a match and matchbox factory until 1928, when it became a printing and graphics company, continually expanding its space until it went bankrupt in 1993.

Since the rehab and re-opening in 1998 its 50,000 m2 of space has been offices and artist studios… The painter Pérez Celis painted the exterior of the building and had a studio here.

I live two blocks away. It is my landmark to know when to get off the bus.

My Lumix was stolen on Saturday. It was my new note-taking device. The last photo I took with it was of mushrooms growing through the sidewalk. I should have taken them as a warning not to go further.

Fungus grows under these stones, go back!

The lesson: when someone says “that is hot, do not touch it,” believe them. Even if someone tells you, “well, if you take this street you can walk there alone,” remember this: the heat will still be there and you might not feel it until it’s too late, when you’ve already been spotted.

I was in La Boca. I’ll save the details because my parents will just worry.

This photo is from one week before, when I was walking with friends.

And this is the view from the clean and pretty Proa gallery, looking in the direction of where I was robbed. See those tall buildings on the right?  Do not walk on the other side of them alone. Get on the damn bus.

From the upstairs balcony.